


Trust Me

by anchoringalaska



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anchoringalaska/pseuds/anchoringalaska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wish you would talk to me..." Bob whispered into Mikey's ear. Mikey didn't think he could take it much longer. He was about ready to jump out of his mind, and tell Bob everything, but he couldn't. He could only lay in his bed, silently breathing in the lingering scent of Bob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm cleaning out my files and I came across this beaut.  
> This is right shit, isn't it? Sorry.

"At the end of the day, all that matters is how we feel about ourselves. It doesn't matter what people think of you, how people respond to what you do, or what they say to you. Ignore it all. Only think about the things closest to you. No matter what anyone says, you are beautiful..."

Bob was sat on the couch watching a video on YouTube he found. He wasn't exactly sure how he had gotten there, but he had, and now he was watching it.

He stood up to stretch his legs, hearing them crack under the pressure. He wanted to talk with Mikey, about nothing in particular, but he had been out nearly an hour now. Bob wasn't sure where he had gone, but he wasn't that concerned. Mikey went on 'adventures' by himself all of the time. It was just his 'alone time.' But, he was usually back by now. He sat back down on the couch, letting the thought slip away. He sat there for another two hours before he heard the front door unlock, and someone step in.

Bob looked up to see Mikey standing at the doorway with his head down. He didn't seem to notice Bob was there, so he cleared his throat. Mikey's head shot up, and he smiled a small smile. He looked back down again, shuffling to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Bob thought his behavior was rather odd, but he dismissed the thought almost as quickly as the video he had seen earlier.

He began searching about the Internet, finding an interesting site and staying on it for a few hours. He looked at the time, and saw that it was eleven, and Mikey still hadn't come out of his room. Even if he felt absolutely terrible, he would have come out to eat or move around at least.

Worrying about his friend, Bob stood up to check on him. As he stood up, his knees cracked from being trapped under him for an hour or so. He walked to Mikey's door, knocking on the door when he reached it.

There was no response, and Bob got slightly worried. He knocked again, only louder this time, and pressed his ear to the door, listening desperately for a sound. When he heard a struggled breath. He tried to open the door, but when he couldn't, he figured Mikey was leaned against it. Bob didn't want to hurt Mikey, but if he was dying, he needed to get inside. He shoved the door open, just enough to allow him to pass through. Mikey's weight pressed the door back firmly shut, and he began to slide down slowly.

Bob could hear his breathing, and, although it was unsteady and faltered, it meant he was alive. Bob noticed that his skin was a lot paler than usual. He reached out a shaky hand to get Mikey's pulse, to make sure that it wasn't slowed to much. Luckily, it was around eighty beats per minute, which was good enough for Bob. Pulling Mikey up, he dragged him to his bed, allowing all of his weight to rest on him.

He laid him down, rushing out to get water for him. Mikey's lips were already slightly parted, so Bob slowly poured the water into his mouth, wanting, wishing, desperately for a response other than strangled breaths.

He waited a few moments before pouring a bit more water in. This time, Mikey's breath stopped completely. Almost immediately before Bob noticed it, Mikey coughed, the water that was in his lungs, spewed across himself and the bed. He began to cough uncontrollably, trying to get the last of the water out of his airway.

When he regained his composure, he noticed Bob crouching by the side of the bed, a terrified expression clearly readable in his eyes. He began to wonder what had happened, but got to caught up in the fact that he was in his room, crouched beside his bed. He glanced at the clock, and it was going on midnight. Why wasn't Bob in his room? Why was he on his bed? He could have sworn remembering falling asleep by the door. It was then that he noticed the cup Bob was holding. Before he could begin to think any further, he realized he had been staring at Bob for a few minutes, not saying anything.

"...Bob..." Mikey whispered weakly. It was all he could manage. He felt so terribly weak, that he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Mikey, please, please tell me what happened while you were out." Bob's begging eyes made Mikey feel even weaker, if that was possible. He didn't understand how such an unimportant person like himself could make Bob that worried and sad.

"Nothing happened, Bob... I got dizzy, and..I..." Mikey cut off, eyes shutting, seemingly going to sleep. Mikey knew better than to believe his body, though. He got so weak to the point of he couldn't move at all. He couldn't even finish his sentence. He tried desperately to open his eyes, but, he simply couldn't.

His 'conscious' state allowed him to hear Bob's soft sniffle, and his long fingers running through his hair. It felt so good, Mikey wouldn't mind dying then and there. Bob's hand left his hair, and where it was, despite his hair keeping his head warm, it felt strangely cold. Mikey could hear another sniffle, and his hand returned, only, this time, to his cheek. His fingers were wet, and that just made Mikey feel even worse. Not only had he worried Bob, but now he was crying.

"I wish you would talk to me..." Bob whispered into Mikey's ear. Mikey didn't think he could take it much longer. He was about ready to jump out of his mind, and tell Bob everything, but he couldn't. He could only lay in his bed, silently breathing in the lingering scent of Bob.

Bob stood up, wiping away the tears that were slowly making their way down his face. He made it to the door, reaching out a hand to turn the handle, when something told him to go back to Mikey. He turned back around, looking Mikey over. 'He really does look pale...' Bob thought, while walking back over to stand beside the bed. He ran his fingers along the exposed skin of his arm, stopping midway down his forearm once noticing he was all skin. There was no muscle, despite all of the running and exercising they had done together. He looked over his entire body, finally noticing that his clothes hung loosely over him. It was a lot looser than usual, Bob was sure, but he ignored it, and walked back to the door. Once he reached it, he turned off the light, and closed it behind him.  
***  
The remainder of the night into the early hours of the morning were spent restlessly for Bob. He was sprawled across his bed, wanting terribly to get to sleep, but subconsciously refusing. Bob was rested on his side staring at the beams of moonlight that were passing through his window, emitting a dim blue glow from everything it reached. He reached out his hand, seemingly wanting to grab it, and hold it close. With his one failed attempt making him lose interest, he retracted his hand, turning to lay on his back. The ceiling had little to offer, yet when he stared at it, he thought of Mikey. He didn't know why he thought of him when he stared at his plain ceiling, but he imagined it was because of it's color. It was slightly lit up by the moonlight, making it's usually off white color more of a tinted blue.

In Bob's mind, this related to Mikey only because when he was standing over him earlier that night, his shadow made the boy's skin a pale blue. After thinking of Mikey's 'condition', he couldn't get the thought of Mikey out of his head. He simply could not get the horrid image of his flatmate off of his mind. His pale skin even paler, and his body so thin, so fragile. When he thought of how thin he was, he couldn't refrain from imagining his body withering away, his remains seeping into the mattress, never to be discovered again.

These thoughts made Bob want to cry, but he knew that if he started, the headache to come afterwards would be even worse than the one he was sure to receive for his lack of sleep. After many thought filled hours, his mind soon settled down enough for him to get some sleep, just as the sun was peaking out from behind the horizon.

\---.

After mindless hours of being awake, yet not awake enough to do anything productive, Mikey had gotten a few hours of sleep. He slowly opened his eyes, grunting quietly. He didn't yet want to lose the brilliant thing that was sleep. Eventually, he ignored his own pleads for sleep, and he folded the covers back, revealing his frighteningly tiny frame.

"God, you're so disgusting." He grumbled quietly to himself. He couldn't stand himself sometimes. He wasn't worth anything. He just wanted to be like the others. But he couldn't, because he was disgusting, only with this, there was nothing he could do about it.

His stomach growled devilishly, causing him to grab his sides in pain. The growling stopped, but the pain was persistent, gnawing at his insides with each move he made. He sat back down on the bed, whimpering slightly. His stomach growled once more before Mikey whispered harshly at it.

"Shut up. I ate yesterday. You're just being greedy, so leave me alone." By the end, he was whimpering the words. He was on the verge of tears, but he held them back.

His stomach growled once more in response, but stopped soon after.  
***  
Mikey opened his eyes yet again to the soft sound of cars honking from below his window. He looked around confused, wondering how he had gotten back onto his bed, and why he was waking up for the second time that day. He remembered that his stomach was in terrible pain, and that he had sat back on his bed. Not being able to remember anymore, he assumed that he was still tired from not getting anymore than five hours of sleep, and must have fallen back asleep.

He ignored his confusion, pushing back the covers that he didn't remember placing, and standing up. He leaned back, and, with hearing his back crack, he stood straight up, suddenly looking a lot more tired than before. He rubbed his eyes, yawning slightly, before turning to face his dresser, walking towards it, pulling out clothes to wear for that day.

He wasn't sure if there was any real need for a shirt, since he would be the only one awake, but simply wasn't sure. After moments of staring at the shirt he held in his hands, he decided against it, setting it back in the respectable drawer.

He changed without much of a struggle, stepping towards the door to open it and walk out. Slightly fumbling with the handle only once, Mikey grabbed it, pulling it open nearly fully, just to close it again after stepping out.

Upon hearing the soft click, he turned to the kitchen, still not sure about his decision against a shirt. Bob wouldn't be up for hours, though, right?

He walked to the dining room table, sitting down in one of the chairs. He placed his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand. He stared dreamily out of the window, zoning out for a while thinking about irrelevant things.

Meanwhile, Bob was stirring in his bed, eyes opening, then shutting almost immediately after. The late morning sun was passing through his window, reflecting off of something, and shining directly in his eyes. He tried to block it with his hand, soon finding that his arm was still to tired to stay up to long, falling back beside him. He turned onto his other side, hoping to get more sleep. But, as soon as his eyes began drifting shut, he heard a car alarm go off somewhere on the street below. He gave up on getting any more sleep; even though he knew he probably needed it, it wasn't worth the effort.

He sat up, getting used to the sudden change in position. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, still too tired to really do much in a short amount of time. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bed, nearly giving in to the temptation of the warm sheets. He fought the urge, however, and walked over to his dresser to find a change of clothes. He pulled on the first shirt and jeans he found, and made a mental note to himself that he was running low on shirts. He decided that he would do something about it tomorrow, and leave today to it's beautiful nothingness.

He walked to his door, turning the handle, and stepping out. He took the few steps needed to reach the kitchen, yawning slightly while shutting his eyes, walking blindly to the counter, from memory. Once he got there, he opened his eyes and stared at the opposite wall. He was hungry, but he didn't feel like doing much of anything, including eating, so he turned around, glancing at the table. He looked towards the window, but looked back once he realized someone sitting there. He wasn't honestly that worried- it was probably just Mikey, since he was nearly always up before him, but he wondered why he hadn't acknowledged his being there. He didn't think that he was some amazing person, that whenever you saw him, you had to bow, or something, but he did expect to be acknowledged, at least. He looked back to the person sitting there, seeing that it was Mikey, but took in a sharp breath as he saw his stomach, or, lack there of.

The place where Mikey's stomach was supposed to be was replaced with a dent, making it appear as though someone had scooped out the majority of his organs under his ribs.

Bob rushed over to Mikey, nearly tripping over seemingly nothing, before reaching the table. He saw that Mikey's eyes were closed, leading him back to the scare of the night prior. He checked his pulse, making sure that it was there. When he was sure that it was normal, he skipped the step of trying to get him water; he knew it wouldn't help him much. He wrapped one arm around his upper back, under his arms, and the other under the backside of the knee, picking him up bridal style. He carried him to the couch and laid him down on his back.

He began to slightly panic when he saw his torso up close, seeing as though he could form a circular shape with his hands, and be able to hold him by his waist. Once he calmed down a bit, he realized that panicking wasn't going to help or solve much of anything, and, although he was a little late in his realization, he came to his senses, and lifted Mikey's head a bit, slipping onto the space where his head used to lay, and placing it back down, onto his lap. He sat still for a few minutes, still silently panicking, but soon, his breathing slowed, and he began to subconsciously stroke Mikey's hair.

Mikey's eyes opened after a deep sleep for the third time that day, and he began to wonder what else was wrong with him. He had five hours of sleep, then another two or three hours, now he was asleep again. There had to be something else wrong with him. He moved a bit, finding this place a lot more comfortable than any other place he had been asleep. When he moved that small bit, though, he realized that something had been moving around in his hair. As he thought back he realized that it had been rubbing it, but until now, he hadn't really noticed it.

He sat up quickly, nearly falling off the side of the couch. He would have, had it not been for Bob grabbing him as soon as he sat up. Mikey realized that he had been laying in Bob's lap, and blushed furiously. He then noticed that he was still shirtless, and Bob had been holding him by his waist. He was already incredibly embarrassed, and holding back tears, but when he saw that Bob was staring at his stomach, he let one tear loose. As soon as it fell from his eye, however, Bob was already wiping it away. Bob seemed as though he were at loss for words, and he opened his mouth a few times with no words coming out, before questioning Mikey with a single word.

"Why?"

"What? What do you mean 'Why?" Mikey was genuinely confused, and had no idea what Bob was on about.

"Why, Mikey? Just tell me why. You look far below healthy, and do you see my arm? Do you?! I can wrap it all the way around your waist without even trying!"

Mikey, thinking he knew what Bob was talking about, but still not wanting to talk about it himself, simply stared into Bob's eyes, at a near complete loss of what to do.

"Well? Why have you stopped eating? Don't even try and deny it, either. It's obvious."

"...Because, if I'm this fat, you won't want me..."

Mikey dropped his head in shame, and replied in a barely audible whisper, but Bob caught every word. He pulled Mikey in by the waist, having not let go earlier, and hugged him tight, trying to make him understand that it didn't matter. He wasn't completely sure if it meant Mikey understood when he wrapped his arms around his neck, but he was going to assume it did. They sat like that for a while, holding each other, rocking back and forth slightly until Bob broke the silence.

"You are so beautiful," Bob whispered.

Mikey pulled away slightly, doubting Bob's words. He couldn't help but believe he was simply saying that, with no real meaning behind it. 

"That's not true..." he said whilst slowly slipping his hands from around his Bob's neck and turning away.

"It really is. You are the most beautiful, wonderful, fantastic person I have ever set eyes on. Don't ever doubt that." Bob replied quietly, yet reassuringly, looking into Mikey's eyes the entire time. He grabbed Mikey's cheeks and held them as though he was going to kiss him, but made no other movements.

A tear fell from Mikey's right eye, rolling down his cheek, setting at the edge of his jaw, waiting for a movement strong enough to let it fall to it's watery death. He managed to get his face from Bob's grasp, turning away to stare at the floor.

"But, that's just not true." Mikey was staring at the space just beside his feet, many more tears falling directly from his eyes to the floor, forming a small salty puddle. "It's not true, Bob, and you know it. You... You don't even know..."

"What don't I know, Mikey? Please, talk to me. Tell me what happened yesterday while you were out. Tell me why you stopped eating. Tell me a lie, if you feel you must. Just... Just talk to me." Bob looked desperate, and as Mikey turned to look him in the eyes, he saw the involuntary pout and couldn't fully control what he said next.

"You...you honestly want to know what my problem is, Bob? It's you...you, you, you. You are everywhere. You are with me a ton of the time, and when I go out to try and forget about you for a few hours, there you are again; right there in my thoughts. I-I share this flat with you, meaning that anytime I go where you have been recently, which is pretty much everywhere, it smells like you. I can't even bring myself to breathe as I'm passing your room, because it smells just like you. I am tired of it! You torture me each day, Bob. Everyday that you brush my arm, help me to bed, or even look me in the eyes, I know that, despite how real it may seem, you will never want me.  
You still want to know why all this bothers me? Because I love you. Yes, I, Mikey Way, am in love with you, Bob Bryar. The same Bob Bryar that I have spent so much time with, that if I am away from him for more than a few days at a time, I crawl into his bed, sobbing, just wishing for him to come home, so that I can at least pretend that I mean more to him than just a friend. The same Bob Bryar that when he comes out without a shirt on, I avert my eyes, not out of common courtesy, but because I know I will stare. The same Bob Bryar that when he suggested we start running, I cried myself to sleep, knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I would...I would never be able to make him happy, with what ever I do. You want to know why I stopped eating? It's because I know that you would never be able to accept me as I was, and, thanks to this nice little conversation we're having, I know that you don't want me now either. All it does is prove that you will never want me..."

Mikey had gotten up during some point, and was pacing around the room. He would look at Bob occasionally, only to ask him a rhetorical question. When he had finished, he was facing Bob, looking down and holding his sides. He turned, walking towards a chair, so he wouldn't have to be anywhere near Bob. This plan failed when he stood up from his seat, walking over to Mikey, taking him in his arms. Mikey was crying, and knew that he didn't have enough will power to fight against the hug, so he simply returned it. He was gripping the back of Bob's shirt, never wanting to let go. He sobbed into his shoulder, and Bob let him. He let him cry until he stopped, nearly ten minutes later. When he had stopped, Bob pulled back slightly to look at Mikey's tear streaked face. He wiped away the wet tear trails, leaving a sticky mess of his face, but left it as was past there.

"You really are beautiful. Please believe me. I wouldn't dare lie to you, Mikey. You are beautiful." Bob spoke truthfully and strong, never looking away from Mikey's eyes. He soon began to lean in closer to Mikey, making both of them nervous, but not stopping. They both closed their eyes when they were nearly touching, both leaning in closer, faster.

When their lips finally met, it wasn't a fairy tale, fireworks going off in the background or in their minds, kiss. It was a very simple kiss. Their lips touched, and they pulled away, not out of worry or second thoughts, but out of knowing that one touch, that small gesture, was enough to portray their true feelings for one another. Bob stood, pulling Mikey up with him. They walked to the kitchen, and although Mikey tried to stop, Bob pulled him along until they were standing in the middle of it. He took a banana off of the counter, holding it in front of him.

"Now, I want to call you my boyfriend, Mikey, I really do, but I won't until you eat something. You can refuse, but just know, that I will not call you my boyfriend until you eat something, with no exceptions. If you eat this banana now, we can go back and make that kiss into something people would be jealous of. Otherwise, we can go on, pretending that it never happened. Your choice, really." Bob spoke while holding the banana out to Mikey, expecting him to take it.

Mikey took it out of Bob's hand slowly, not liking the idea of eating in front of someone.

"I don't think I can, Bob. Believe me, I want to call you my boyfriend too, but I just don't think I can..." Mikey kept the banana held loosely in his grip, looking down, seemingly ashamed.

"Here..." Bob started. He guided Mikey to the couch, sitting down, then pulling him onto his lap. "Each time you take a bite and swallow part of it, I'll kiss you, okay?"

Mikey nodded his head, then stared at the banana, not wanting to eat it in the slightest. Bob wrapped his arm around Mikey's waist, giving it a slight squeeze. He took the banana from Mikey's shaking hands, peeling it part of the way. He handed it back to Mikey, holding him tighter.

Mikey opened his mouth partially, taking a small bite from the banana. He shut his eyes tight, a tear slipping out. Bob saw this and brought their chests together, hugging him tightly. When he felt Mikey swallow, he brought his lips up to Mikey's, kissing him the same as the first time. He wiped away the tears that had fallen from Mikey's eyes, and prompted him to take another bite.

The same thing happened a few times more, until Mikey's body reacted to the food. It realized that it was being fed, and got greedier and greedier with each bite. With the last few bites, Mikey had forgotten about the kisses, and was focused mainly on the banana in his hands. When it was gone, his stomach growled in disapproval. Bob heard it, and smiled.

"Do you want breakfast, love?"

Mikey nodded excitedly, already making his way to the kitchen. Bob's smile broadened at the sight of Mikey, his boyfriend.  
***  
Four months later

The slight ringing from the silenced television awoke Bob gradually; the persistent tone becoming a great disturbance to his mind. He looked around, for he wasn't exactly sure where he was. He knew he wasn't in his bed, he was sure. He looked around, taking note of the furniture and walls, finally deciding he was in the sitting room. Once he figured that out, he began to remember watching shows with Mikey. Shows that neither of them really cared about, but when they need an excuse to cuddle together on the couch, they were always there.

He let his eyes continue to wander about, landing on the lump of blankets and body on top of him. The thing on top of him was Mikey, he knew, but he couldn't help but think of him as a kitten. He acted like it the majority of the time, Bob swore. Mikey was tucked underneath a blanket, only a few fingers showing. Bob assumed his knees were tucked into his chest, since he looked like a ball type lump, but he couldn't be sure. He was curled up on top of Bob's shins, which were slowly losing blood circulation. Deciding that he liked being able to feel his feet and legs, he leant forward to try to wake him up.

It didn't take much, just pulling back the blanket, before Mikey's eyes were opening. He opened them all the way, and scooted up a bit, so that his head was lying on Bob's chest, eyes shutting once more. Bob brushed the hair away from his face, being sure to graze over his cheek, in attempt to wake him up. Mikey wasn't too much of a heavy sleeper, so his eyes fluttered open once again, only this time, he didn't try and close them again.

"Let's go to bed," Bob whispered, already starting to help Mikey off of him and onto the floor.

As Mikey was walking away, Bob couldn't help but stare. He was really glad that Mikey was eating again. Although he wasn't at a healthy weight yet, he was nearing it. He did have a few days of refusing to eat, or, if he was in the middle of a meal, and began to feel full, he would take it as a sign of getting fat, and start bawling. But, Bob was always quickly by his side, holding him close and continuously whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He didn't realize it until he was being pulled down, but he had followed Mikey into their shared bedroom. He laughed quietly as Mikey tried to pull him down faster so he could go back to sleep. He let Mikey pull him down, so that he was beside him, leaning over a bit so that his arm was sprawled over his chest. He tangled their legs together, resting his head on Bob's shoulder, and going back to sleep. Bob couldn't help but smile, as he let his body relax, and he fell asleep.


End file.
